turned by my back on world
I'm going to love you

instead of sunday

that absolute life
always ends in the same way

on monday
your landlady
will chuck it out to the container
together with scraps of our bodies

and another rubbish from the week-end


the leaves are falling
is waiting behind the housing estate

table vase and flower
by which I won't hit you
and I will neither stroke you

I don't know it my love
I have a limp in both hands
I'm pouring a rum into the coffee

(waiting for woman
is always
like waiting for woman)

so come
it is already raining
the leaves are falling and wind –
that real

is waiting here for you with me


"god is dead"
a wise man cried out
a stupid one crossed himself quickly

and god
as though he had heard
and seen nothing

he confirmed the wisdom to a wise man
stupidity to a stupid one

I'm getting older

"exactly like father"
the grandma felt joy
"whom that boy takes after"
she complained a few years later

"you are like delon"
mary said to me
delon was popular
I was popular too

"is it like strážay
or pém?
specify more"
tatiana, who liked it
long and slowly,
advised me

"are you not mucha?"
shy associate professor
wondered during the whole semester

to my colleague julie
I reminded of her brother
maybe that's why
she didn't have an affair with me

in a small quiet flat
in a long narrow corridor
where the light hasn't been shining for ages
I look into the mirror every day

who knows where are
all those I'm similar to
mary tatiana julie
my best poems